Happy 80th Grandpa B!

Saturday was my Grandpa B's 80th Birthday. For his birthday I sent him an 8x10 scan of this photo taken shortly after Christmas in 1977. I was four, and being from a Northern Californian town where it never snowed, the fresh snowfall was irresistable. I remember my heart pounding as we ventured over to the hill. I think it was my first sled ride ever, and Grandpa set the sled up right smack in the middle of the giant Illinois country street hill in front of the farm house.



Not only was I going to be whizzing down a monster valley of snow, but it was a STREET. Streets were dangerous. It seemed parents were always shouting to their little ones to look both ways before crossing a street. And here I was sledding on one! Despite the nerves, I trusted that Grandpa could stop the world if need be. They all can, right?

Many of my fondest memories as a child were born on Grandpa's pig farm. Sadly, the farm and farmhouse were sold over a decade ago. However, the memories feel like yesterday. I'm so thankful for those morning visits to see the sows and their babies, the kittens tucked and hidden in every abandon pig house, the truck and tractor rides, climbing in the barn hay, feeding the horses, swimming in the large water trough, the visits to the musty attic to peek at the old dolls and toys, my first bee sting, my first (and only) shocking encounter with an electric fence, and feeling completely safe to wander for hours on acres upon acres of property.

Bumbo Baby

This is my latest attempt at keeping Faith happy during that fussy hour that runs smack into dinner prep time. So far, it is working like a charm. One Bumbo + One Naked Baby + A Warm Faucet Trickle = 20 Minutes of Uninterrupted Dinner Prep. I even get a cleaner baby out of the equation.

Nana, you can rest easy. The Bumbo is a hot ticket item in the house!

Independence Day

The children told on themselves. Feeling very independent, they said that while I was busy in the basement they got their own bowls of ice cream. The kids even volunteered that they had washed their bowls and spoons, placing them back in the cupboard. They did this so that I wouldn't know --- aside from the fact that their own pride at how sneaky they had been put them at disciplinary risk. I'm the dessert despenser, following clean lunch plate approval, but I was somewhat amused and let it go.

Why I felt they had actually cleaned up everything is beyond me. I should have known better. Instead, I let the day slide until I revisited the kitchen 4 hours later. I'm quite positive that if they hadn't told on themselves, I would have never known, except for one small, teeny, tiny detail.

Yes gals...you can cry.

When The Kid Isn't Yours

This is my first time. My first time dealing with a neighborhood kid that is "difficult". We've lived only a few houses away from each other, and for years our kids and their kids have never crossed paths. Then recently the eight year old girl started to walk her new puppy into every neighbor's yard. Our yard is a special stop in that it has a fish pond in the front to visit, so she and her sister usually come by at least twice a day. It was on one of these visits that the girl and Grace met. It took no more than three minutes for me to realize we had a problem on our hands.

Shoving my hands hard in my pockets is all I can do to stop myself from spanking this child. She has zero respect for adults, peers or animals. When she visits with Grace and Jack outside, I HAVE to be within earshot. To give you an idea of the situation, this is what happened yesterday in the span of just 5 minutes:

Upon spotting the empty gerbil cage on the porch, I overheard the child demand that Grace show her the gerbil. Grace replied he was dead and now buried. The girl challenged that Grace unbury it so she could see it anyway. Grace made no such attempt, but upon further questioning she did share with her where the gerbil was buried. Upon that information, the girl grabbed the small shovel nearby and said SHE would unbury the gerbil herself. (This was not simple curiousity over death, folks. The tone of the girl's conversation was shockingly bullish and forceful.)

It was of course at this point, where I promptly came out of the house and told her nobody would be unburying the dead gerbil. She asked me, "Why NOT?" and then wondered aloud how I had heard her....hmmmmmm.

Directly after the gerbil reprimand, she picked up a rock from the burial location, headed over to the fish pond, held it high over her head and said, "Look what I'm going to do." Standing only two yards away from her, I told her not to throw rocks at the fish. She kept the rock high, making no attempt to put her arm down. Me..fuming at this point...told her she could decide how she wanted to end this thing. I should have kicked her tail out of the yard, but I think I was just as stunned as the kids with her behavior.

Just to keep up the vent festival for a moment...She also has a fettish with opening our front door. Despite my firm responses, she thinks it is humorous to open the door and a let the little toy dog in our house. After reminding her not to open the door, I'll overhear her saying to her sister, "Let's do it again, that was funny." At times, it is dangerous to the puppy, as I have caught them let the dog in, then shut the door, and pull the leash. Beyond normal etiquette, and animal cruelty, this is also the last thing we need to happen with Hatch chomping at the bit (in a friendly way) around other dogs and any time a door opens.

You'd think that a few firm conversations with the kid would change her behavior (at least around us), but it doesn't. She lies through her teeth to Grace, with one manipulation after another manipulation. While this has been a very teachable excercise for Grace, as she learns how to stand up for herself, the last thing I want, is for any of these shananigans to rub off on the kids.

I'm a whimp when it comes to confrontation with adults. I'm avoiding the "talk" with the Mother. I don't want to make an enemy out of the parents...they seem like nice people. I mean what do I say? The truth just would seem hurtful. I feel like I'm crossing some rite of passage as a parent. I could ban her from the yard, but that just seems ridiculous and somehow avoiding a real solution. However, her behavior IS ridiculous. Do I kill her with kindness or give her the boot? This is one of those "What Would Jesus Do?" moments, and I have NO idea.